Approval
by blood-junky
Summary: Ennis has found a new love, but wishes for the blessing of Jack's spirit first.


**Approval**

Ennis Del Mar closed his eyes and lifted his nose to the cool mountain air as the wind picked up, carrying forth the sweet, ever familiar scents of pine, rain and leather. He noted with a sad smile that while such perfumes were occasional and faint back home, only on Brokeback were they as prominent and calming. With a rough sigh, the ranch hand ducked his head and fidgeted, scraping around the dirt underfoot with the toe of his boot as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

It had almost been impossible to look at a simple postcard of this place, much less go back, since Jack's passing. But Ennis had to do it. He had to see the sacred spruces, the majestically weathered rocks, and hear the song of the babbling brook. He had to smell the pine, hear the whinny of the horses, and the hissing of the wind as it caressed the leaves of the trees, one last time. But more importantly, he had to see Jack, or, at the very least, feel him, the tangible remainders of his almost childish enthusiasm that would always be there. There was just so much to say that hadn't been said, so much he owed the younger man, and more to make up for. But Ennis continued to stare at the ground: at the very place where their tent had been set up, the very place where he and Jack had wordlessly given into their desire for one another.

"Aw hell, Jack," Ennis mumbled, blushing at the chain of sweet memories that bombarded him. "There really ain't no quittin' you after all, is there?"

The ranch hand bit his lip and pulled off his hat, holding it to his chest awhile.

"We need to talk, my friend," he said loudly after a long pause. Ennis had never been one to believe in ghosts, but he figured he could afford a half hour of insanity: talk to the wind, pour his heart out to no one, and go home with only the few fond memories of Jack he possessed lingering forever in his head. Better to let it all out in the most sacred of places than let it torment one forever.

"I-I can't tell ya how sorry I am, Jack," Ennis mumbled stiffly, kneading his hat. "I really can't there was there was so much I wanted to give you, and a and a lot more I wanted to- shit!"

The ranch hand balled up his fists and kicked up a cloud of dirt, then huffed in frustration and planted his calloused hands on his hips. Jack had always been so much better than him when it came to expressing his feelings. With Jack, it seemed his every emotion was incapable of being barred back by any inkling of fear or doubt. They had poured out of him through his varied expressions, his every word, his beautiful eyes, and hit their mark without fail.

But Ennis himself was another story. He had been raised to keep his emotions under his hat, to be "a real man," and he suddenly felt like kicking himself for being such a stiff-lipped, stone faced bastard towards Jack. Only through grunt and gesture did Ennis ever feel comfortable in getting his point across, but speech was his weakness. Compared to him, where speech and body language were concerned, Jack had nearly been a poet. An overenthusiastic and consequently tragic poet with a tormented soul, but a poet nonetheless.

"Gah, Jack fuckin' Twist ," Ennis muttered to himself, shaking his head fondly. The wind seemed to pick up at the utterance of Ennis' favorite expletive for the deceased cowboy. "What I wouldn't give to see you one last time. I ain't no good at this monologue shit."

He spit at the ground, then bit his lip and gently kicked some sacred dirt over the moisture. Suddenly, around him, everything began to change: the trees bent at the will of the wind, which had unexpectedly changed course, and the darkening clouds hastily moved to conceal the sun. Beside Ennis, a great mass of leaves spiraled like a funnel. The ranch hand shook his head and turned away.

"Care to spit it out, friend?" a sudden voice spoke up softly behind him. Ennis whipped around to face an undeniably familiar pair of bright blue eyes. "I don't got all day, y'know."

Ennis's heart raced as Jack's signature, playful little smile spread across his face. The younger man appeared as many would describe an angel, clad in white and all but surrounded by an unearthly glow. His soft looking hands were tucked into his pockets, and his head was bent so that the rim of his handsome white hat concealed his beautiful eyes. Stunned, Ennis reached out to touch his cheek, and found that it felt silkier, albeit firmer, than it had in life. Looking up from beneath the lip of his hat, Jack reached up and fondly stroked Ennis's hand.

"What's this about, cowboy?" Jack asked softly, gazing at his former lover. Ennis tried to look at his feet, but Jack cupped him firmly by the chin with his free hand.

"Look at me," he said. Ennis sighed.

"I-I wanted to tell you how much how much you meant to me while y'were still here," he mumbled, staring at Jack's hand. "I can't remember any time in my whole damn life that I've felt so happy, Jack, than when we spent that one summer together. I know there was a hell of a lot more I could have given you, and I'm sure as hell sorry I never gave it. You were right. We could a had a great life together, but I took advantage of both our time. I took advantage of you, and I'm sorry."

Jack nodded solemnly and pursed his lips as though he were about to cry.

"Anything else?" he whispered, stroking Ennis' hand with his thumb. Ennis nodded.

"Yeah," he answered, massaging Jack's cheek. "I know y'ain't gonna be happy about this, but, uh I-I'm seeing someone again, and...and I wanna make it work, Jack. I wanna take the chance we never did."

Jack stared at the ranch hand for a long moment, his steel hand clamped over Ennis' on his cheek, and then slowly closed his eyes.

"Who is it?" Jack asked hoarsely.

"His name's Carter," Ennis answered in the same pained tone. "We we met at the bar a while ago. He's a real swell guy, he really is, Jack, but I'm not going to take another step with him unless...," he trailed off and closed his eyes.

"Unless what?" Jack pressed, the pain in his soft voice clear.

"'Less we have your blessin', Jack," Ennis finished, gazing the steel apparition in the eyes.

Jack was silent for a moment.

"Does he love you?"

Ennis paused as the blood crept into his face.

"Does he love you?" Jack repeated, raising his voice slightly.

"I-I don't know," Ennis admitted, turning his head to gaze at the conifers. Jack bit his lip.

"Do you love him?"

Ennis' head whipped back to face the steel apparition. He opened his mouth, but nothing came, only the blood into his face.

"Yeah, I-I do, Jack," he said finally, tears beginning to well up in his pained brown eyes. "But it's not, it's not...,"

"The same?" Jack finished, gazing sadly at him. Ennis nodded. Jack hid his eyes with the rim of his hat, exactly as he would have in life.

"How long has this been goin' on, Ennis?"

"'Bout a year."

"How often does he see ya?"

"We try to get together every few weeks."

Jack scoffed softly.

"Better'n ours, at least...,"

Ennis glared at his deceased love.

"Don't you start with that shit now, Jack," he snapped.

Jack narrowed his eyes and dropped Ennis's hand.

"What are ya gonna do, cowboy?" he challenged, arms outstretched. "Fuckin' kill me like you said you would? Bit late for that now, ain't it?"

"Shut the fuck up, Twist!" Ennis growled, idly pondering his sanity in the back of his mind. "I fuckin' said I was sorry!"

"That won't mean nothin' till I see you on the other side!"

"Then why the fuck are you still here talkin' to me?"

Jack growled and punched a nearby conifer, breaking it in half, while Ennis cussed and kicked up another cloud of dirt. The lost lovers stood like they always had in life after an argument, their hands on their hips, their backs to each other, Jack shaking his head and Ennis breathing heavy as he stared at the ground.

"God damn it, Jack!" Ennis sobbed after a moment of painful silence, his voice cracking. Jack sighed heavily and turned about to face him.

"What?" he asked tiredly, hands still planted at his sides.

"I fuckin' love you, that's what!" the ranch hand shouted, tears pouring down his face as he sank to his knees. Jack seemed to be suppressing the urge to chuckle and cry at once as he made his way over to the miserable Ennis, the true love of the life that had been so brutally taken from him. He embraced him gently as the man sobbed into his hands, leaning into Jack's eternally steel chest and letting out everything he had ever wanted to tell him.

"It's alright, it's alright...," Jack mumbled, carefully cradling Ennis's head. The ranch hand's chest heaved with his weeping. "Damn you, Ennis."

"No, no it's not alright," Ennis sobbed, pounding Jack's chest. "I fuckin' lost you! It'll never be alright!"

Jack shook his head fondly.

"You gotta move on, cowboy, I'm sorry," Jack sighed. "I'm sorry for losin' it. Sucks, I ain't immune to the green-eyed monster even when I'm dead." The ghost gave a short laugh. Bitter.

"Shoulda killed m'self while I had the chance...," Ennis hiccupped, his tears ceasing. He grasped a handful Jack's shirt and hid his tear streaked face in his shoulder. Jack glared daggers at him and wrenched his face away so as to look the miserable man in the eyes.

"Hey now, there ain't no need for that bullshit," Jack scolded, shaking his lover roughly. "You got a life, and you're gonna live it to the damn fullest or so help me God I will come back, I will find you, and I will beat your ass. You got me?"

Ennis hiccupped and nodded at once. Jack sighed heavily, tucking Ennis's head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms around him, cradling him and murmuring comforting words until his lover's hiccupping ceased.

"I gotta go now," Jack lamented after what felt like only seconds to Ennis. The ranch hand clenched his shirt again.

"No," he mumbled like a stubborn child. "Stay here with me. Please." Jack kissed his head, relishing the long lost scent of rain and pine in his lover's hair. Then he released him.

"I'll always be here, cowboy," he said, pulling himself upright. "Anytime you need me."

Ennis grunted to his feet and stared uneasily at his deceased love.

"Wish me luck?" He asked after a long silence. Tears were brimming in his eyes again. Jack reached forward and wiped them away.

"The best of it," he murmured, cupping Ennis' face. "Go and enjoy your life, cowboy. Let's hope this one's a keeper."

Ennis smiled with honesty for the first time in twenty-two years and leaned forward to kiss his lover one last time. Jack's kiss was passionate as ever and, Ennis noticed with a nostalgic sigh, his lips were as smooth and warm as they had been in life. When they pulled apart, the ethereal white glow surrounded Jack once again as he backed away, hands in his pockets.

"I love you, Ennis," Jack said, his face heartbreakingly sincere and radiant. "Don't you ever forget that. Don't you ever forget what we had."

"I'll never forget it," Ennis whispered hoarsely, voice cracking. "I'll always love you, my little darlin'." It seemed that ghostly tears then cascaded down Jack's face.

"Take care o'yourself, cowboy," he whispered. "I'll put in a good word for you."

With that, the wind picked up, ushering the leaves into the air. They surrounded Jack, who smiled sadly and tipped his hat as the glow engulfed him. It faded and he vanished, leaving Ennis alone on Brokeback Mountain, that perfect place where it all began that fateful summer in 1963.

But he was not miserable.

Seeing Jack again and letting out everything; sobbing into his chest, seeing his beautiful face one last time, had contented something in Ennis' soul, and he felt whole for the first time since he lost the one true love of his life. With a blissful smile and a nod to the timeless and sacred mountain, he mounted his horse and made his way back, back to the bustle of rural town life: to the ever circulating and comforting scents of leather, dust, grills and beer, and back to Carter, all with a renewed sense of fulfillment, purpose, hopefulness, and love. Back home, knowing Jack would always be with him. He could hear him now, his laughter lingering in the babble of the brook, and his promises of eternity and love wafting in the wind that combed almost lovingly through his tangled brown hair.

"Little darlin'...," Ennis murmured.

And he could have sworn he heard Jack whisper in return.


End file.
